


a hint of asbestos

by thewhitebirds



Series: stories of the black family [4]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 21:18:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/654513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewhitebirds/pseuds/thewhitebirds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucretia Black leads a life of quiet desperation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a hint of asbestos

It is 1944 and Lucretia Black's summer is filled with the sounds of muggle planes. They are noisy and destructive, of course, and no one in polite society wants do discuss them. Nevertheless, her dreams are filled with buzzing and groaning, sad wailings of a country at war. Melania Black finds the sketches on the floor; flying metal monsters with teeth, raining fire on the countryside.  
  
"Daughter," she pronounces stiffly, setting each drawing in the fire, "If you _must_ insist on wasting paper, do draw some nice landscapes. Imagine what your father would think if he saw this."  
  
School resumes, and the only thing students speak of is terror – the war, for some, and for others, the rumor that a monster prowls the school to kill mudbloods. Lucretia draws clusters of Slytherins, sitting together with frosty expressions of disdain. She draws Olive Hornby's scowl and poor Myrtle's ugly glasses. She doesn't even realize that Tom Riddle is watching over her shoulder until he sits with a rustling of fabric. "What depressing pictures, Miss Black. Have you ever tried sketching the grounds outside Hogwarts instead? There are some very interesting views of the lake."  
  
Tom has a voice of velvet and black ice and hair that flops around his head  _just so_ ; this is why the boys can't help but follow him and why every girl wishes to catch his eye. Lucretia doesn't harbor romantic delusions. She is a _Black_ , and besides, Arcturus and Melania have been dropping hints about  _how nice_ the Prewett boy is as long as she can remember. Instead, she just nods politely and turns away.  
  
She wonders for a while if the weddings will never end. Her own is a blur of a dress she didn't choose and the overwhelming amounts of Prewetts and Blacks, splotches of  black and red hair. Cygnus' wedding is somewhat better, perhaps because Druella genuinely enjoys the pomp and show. But Lucretia waits until after Orion’s wedding to draw a picture of Walburga – a silk veil in her hair and the hints of fury--madness, maybe--in her eyes. Ignatius accidentally sees it. "Lucretia," he sighs mildly, still unsure what to think of Blacks. "Wouldn't you rather draw the garden instead?"  
  
For a while she listens. All the visitors enjoy the watercolour lilacs and charcoal roses – "Who knew you had such talent, Mrs. Prewett?" Then she stops for a few years and the first picture to resurface shows the tiny grave with the creeping jasmine they planted near it. Ignatius sees it and has nothing left to say.  
  
....  
  
Alphard always forgets to send letters – he usually delivers them himself, full of tales of his adventures and travels. Today he brings her ink and calligraphy brushes from Japan, and they sit on the settee drinking tea that tastes of cherry blossoms and silk. "I think my sister has gone halfway mad," he confides as he pages through the drawings Lucretia usually keeps to herself. "It’s as if they try to keep Sirius caged up and as a result..." He shakes his head. She silently slips her hand into his as Alphard flips past sketches of the gargoyles and dragons, past the disowned nephews Gideon and Fabian and on to the last sketch in the book--a muggle airplane; the metal monster raining fire on the countryside. This is the picture Alphard keeps.  
  
"Lucy," he admits, "I'm glad you stopped drawing those awful landscapes."


End file.
